


Three Sunsets of Haunting You

by batslikepastel



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Dark Magic, Fluff, Frank Iero Is A Sweetheart, Frerard, Gerard Way is a Sweetheart, Ghost!Frank, Halloween, Happy Ending, Haunted Houses, Historical, Idiots in Love, King!Gerard, M/M, Pining, Shy Gerard Way, Soul Bond, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batslikepastel/pseuds/batslikepastel
Summary: “When you decided to move to the countryside estate, our parents bade you find a wife, brother,” Michael said, looking mildly amused.  “Not take a ghostly lover that is…decidedly not female.”“His name is Frank,” Gerard supplied helpfully.  “And he’s not my lover.”Michael sighed.***When shy nobleman Gerard moves to the countryside, temptation presents itself in the form of Frank Iero, the mansion’s resident ghost.  There are just a few complications- first and foremost, that Frank belongs to a graveyard and will continually grow weaker once All Hallows’ Eve passes.  Secondly, and equally importantly?The queen is dying and Gerard is secretly heir to the throne.A Halloween special!
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 12
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! I've been planning this for absolutely ages, so I'm super excited to share it with you guys! Here's my offering of a indulgently fluffy holiday special :)
> 
> Soundtrack: Baby You're a Haunted House

_**October 30th, 1900**_

The carriage came to a halt on the gravel path, and Gerard woke with a start. His left cheek was numb from where it had been pressed onto the icy window, and he was fairly certain that was a coffee stain on his rumpled dress shirt. Oh, well. He barely had time to straighten out his clothes and readjust his tie before the footman opened the door with a click. Trying not to wince at the October chill (winters in Aquilla were particularly vicious), he gave a quick nod to the servant before stepping off the carriage. 

“I’d like my trunks brought to my room, please.” The footman, a frightened young lad of about seventeen, nodded frantically, blue eyes wide. “Yessir, right away, sir.” 

He hoped they weren’t all this terrified of him- he’d specifically requested for a less glamorous title to masquerade under. There were only five servants, he’d been told, none of whom were all the wiser about exactly who they were serving. 

Starting down the front path, he took in the estate for the first time- a majestic, cream-bricked affair of a mansion, with curving French windows and flanked by two midnight blue turrets, from which fluttering banners with the Way family crest hung. Gerard tried not to notice the curious stares from the servants as he ascended the front steps. 

He was greeted at the front door by an elegant woman with a warm smile. Clad in a black satin dress, her greying hair was gathered in a neat bun at the nape of her neck and her rain-coloured eyes glimmered with humour. Gerard liked her right away.

She pulled open the mahogany double doors, revealing a cozy foyer. “My Lord,” she said, bowing her head in a clearly unaccustomed manner. Unacquainted with nobility, then. All the better.

He stepped inside. “Thank you. And please, dispense with the formalities. Call me Gerard.” 

Her eyes flickered with surprise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then, Gerard. My name is Eileen.”

“Likewise. I take it you are the housekeeper, Eileen?” His eyes roved around the room, taking in the thick blue carpet, crystal chandelier and engraved wooden staircases curving gracefully upwards.

“Yes, I am.”

“From what I’ve seen, the mansion is beautifully kept.” 

He was proven correct. Upon being shown to his chambers, he was immediately pleased with its cheerful atmosphere and light decor. He collapsed, admittedly in an undignified manner, into a plush armchair the minute the doors were closed and he was left in blissful silence.

“I simply have to write to Michael,” he murmured to himself. The country estate was nowhere as uptight as the palace, and the small number of servants and their friendliness did wonders for his usual anxious manner.

For the first time, he felt as though he could truly breathe.

“I must admit, you don’t look much of a gentleman as of now,” said a voice from behind him, and he jumped, startled. He whipped around to find the source. “I must admit, that wasn’t exactly polite of you-”

His mouth went dry when he saw the boy perched upon the windowsill. He was dressed in all black, in a dress shirt and vest a size too large for him. His hair was windblown and tousled, black like the coal in his grate. Yet the young man seemed to hold a certain kind of regalness, perhaps in the mischievous grin his pink lips formed or the little spark in his emerald-hazel eyes. But his beauty was not the reason Gerard and his traitorous heart stopped and stared. Well, not the _only_ reason.

The boy was translucent.

Gerard could see the garden with its hedges and flower beds beyond his glowing form, a little hazy but without a doubt there. He swallowed. Swallowed again.

Jumping off the windowsill with a catlike grace, the boy pranced over to him with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Gerard finally found his voice. “I- what- _who_ are you and what the hell- I mean, what are you doing in my rooms?” he demanded.

He grinned. “Would never have guessed you were a nobleman with the manners you have, dear lord.” He giggled, honest to God _giggled_ , and Gerard could see a million different colours swirl in his eyes. Fuck. This had to be a dream.

Might as well take his time with it, then.

“I’m Frank,” the boy said, with an air of pride. “Frank Iero. And you are?”

“You’re standing in my bedroom and you don’t know my name,” Gerard deadpanned. “I’m wounded.”

“Oh, please, save the theatrics,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

He feigned annoyance. “Fine. My name is Gerard Way and I have the power to throw you out of this mansion.”

Frank clicked his tongue. “My, my, what a way to treat a guest. What is it they say, never speak ill of the dead?”

Gerard stopped cold. “Wait, _what_?”

Frank shrugged, a devilish look in his eyes. “Oh, I must have missed that part out in my introductions, pray pardon me, Lord Way,” he said with a simpering smile and voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. “Dear God, Gerard, how dense are you? I’m half transparent and I materialised in your room. I believe that’s the definition of a ghost, isn’t it?”

“I-” Gerard’s voice chose yet another convenient time to abandon him. It was a moment before he regained control. “I knew there was something ghostly about you, but- but you’re _dead_?”

Frank sighed and flopped down on the armchair beside Gerard’s. “Died of illness at age twenty, yes. And that happened about… five years ago, I’d say? Just before this mansion got sold to your family.”

Gerard furrowed his brow. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I never knew about the family that inhabited this place before us.”

Frank coughed, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Yes, well.”

“I suppose we’re around the same age then,” Gerard said, just to break the tension. “I’m twenty four, and if it’s been five years, that makes you twenty five?”

Frank shook his head. “I haven’t aged since,” he admitted. He clapped his hands and the liveliness returned to his eyes. “But enough about me. What brings you here to these lonely, lonely moors?” He grinned at Gerard. “Any tragically romantic story you’d care to share, my lord?”

Gerard pointedly ignored the skip of his heart. God, he had to stop. He laughed, a beat too late. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have many tales of grandeur to indulge you in, Frank,” he said apologetically. “The real reason I moved here is a lot less dramatic.”

Frank nodded invitingly, a prompt to continue, and he took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stand the stuffiess of noble life,” he explained, feeling his face flush. “That sounds really ungrateful of me, I realise, but I couldn’t- I can’t-”

He was stopped by Frank laying a gentle hand on his arm. His touch was warm, not cold as he’d expected, and it was as though a thin veil had been draped over his skin. Gerard shivered. “Anyway. I’d stiffen up every time I had to speak to important people, or people that weren’t my family in general. I get anxious around crowds and at events and things, I-” He waved a hand. “It’s hard to describe. It’s usually just this overwhelming urge to hide,” he confessed. He really was pouring his heart out to a stranger, wasn’t he? 

“My parents realised soon that I was an inadequate heir. Their original plan was to marry me off to some well-off lady early on, hoping that my title alone would be appealing enough. And it was, for many. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t marry someone like that,” he said with a sheepish smile. Conveniently omitting the part that “someone like that” encompassed the entirety of the female gender.

“So I asked to move to the country estate, be alone for a few years. My mother begged me to find a wife before I left.” He gave a dry laugh. “I suppose that’s better than my father, who didn’t give a rat’s ass. My brother Michael is the only one who truly cares about me.”

Frank rubbed his thumb along the back of Gerard’s hand. “I’m sorry about your parents. Michael is the one you were speaking of writing to, isn’t he?”

Gerard snorted. “Eavesdropper.”

“You were talking to yourself,” he pointed out.

“Exactly. Not to you.” It came out slightly colder than he intended, possibly due to the fact that the ghost’s hand remained on his arm.

Frank raised an appraising eyebrow. “You can play the standoffish duke rather well when you try.”

Gerard blushed, facade already forgotten. Matters would be much, _much_ simpler if he were but a mere duke.

“Thank you, I suppose?” It came out sounding more like a question. He suddenly straightened in his seat. “Oh God, where are my manners? I- wait, can you eat?”

“Firstly, judging by the direction of this conversation, I think I can safely say neither of us give a fuck about manners, Gerard,” Frank said, laughing. “And yes, I can eat.”

“And secondly?”

Frank gave him an approving look. “Someone’s been paying attention. _Secondly_ , I wouldn’t mind if you did that voice again.”

The room seemed to abruptly increase in temperature. “What voice?”

Frank smirked, curling up in his armchair like the Cheshire Cat. “The one where you sound all commanding.”

Oh fuck, he couldn’t just say things like that, Jesus Christ. “I demand you leave my estate,” he snarled, channeling his nervousness into hostility. He fixed a glare upon the ghost. “ _Now_.”

Frank looked positively delighted, collapsing into laughter mere moments after. “My word, you are amusing,” he chuckled, wiping at his eyes.

Slightly mortified, Gerard twisted his hands in his lap. “Nice to hear,” he said, a little stiffly. Amusing. Right. He plastered on a smile. “I’ll go get us some refreshments from the kitchens. Wait here.”

Ignoring Frank’s little cry of protest, he hurried out of the chamber and down the carpeted staircase. Under normal circumstances, he’d have been reveling in the utter emptiness of it all, but right now, his head was bursting at the seams with thoughts.

Ghosts existed. Or the undead, however you liked to put it. Despite his childhood love for horror stories, he’d never expected them to be like this, though. All soft-lipped smiles and twinkling eyes and smirks that sent his mind reeling-

Shaking off the thoughts like snow off a coat, he stopped himself in time with his arrival at the kitchens. He rapped on the door. “Eileen?” he called.

She arrived at the door, straightening down her dress with flour-dusted hands. “Oh, Gerard! You could have rung the bell, you know,” she said with a fond smile. 

“I’m perfectly happy to come down,” he said as Eileen bustled him into the kitchen, already picking up a ladle to stir a pot of soup. He inhaled the scent appreciatively. “It smells heavenly. You remind me of my grandmother, actually,” he said quietly. 

Something in Eileen’s eyes softened and she opened her arms. “Come here, sweetie,” she whispered, and he stepped into her embrace gratefully. “You miss her, don’t you?”

He nodded. How she knew, he couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it was a grandmotherly trait; they just _knew_ things.

He managed a smile, remembering Frank. “I was just wondering, could I have some refreshments? For myself and a… a guest.”

“I see you’ve met Frank.”

His eyes widened. “You know?”

She smiled, planting her hands on her hips. “I run this household, remember?” She started pulling items out of cupboards- sliced hams, hunks of cheese, loaves of bread. “Just don’t let that boy give you trouble,” she said.

Gerard laughed. “I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that.” 

Eileen only smiled.

Within a few minutes, he was sent staggering back upstairs with a heavy tray laden with enough to feed the entire mansion. She’d managed to whip up a pudding, buttered bread rolls, tarts, hard boiled eggs and a selection of cheese along with a generous serving of fruit.

Frank lit up the minute he walked back in. “You brought food!”

Gerard bit back a smile at his childish joyfulness. “I hope it’s to your liking. When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Worrying about me now, are you? I’m touched.” He laughed, clear and bright, yet again defying Gerard’s expectations of ghostly beings. “Eileen insists on feeding me so much, I suppose it’s fortunate I’m incapable of gaining weight.”

Gerard nodded. “Can’t say I’m as blessed.”

“Oh, shut it, your figure is perfectly adequate,” Frank quipped, and was he batting his eyelashes?

Fuck.

“Anyway,” he said, in a pitifully obvious attempt to change the subject, “my family is visiting tomorrow. More a social obligation than anything- I’m fairly certain my mother insisted on it, to see me settled and all that.”

Frank picked up a bread roll and started chewing with reckless abandon. “Well, it’s just one night,” he garbled. “At least here they can’t line up suitors to seduce you.”

He snorted and nibbled at a piece of cheese. “That’s half my purpose for moving here, Frank. And they say it’s cursed to take a bride on All Hallows’ Eve, don’t they? It’s All Hallows’ tomorrow.”

“Bit rude, considering that’s my birthday.” 

Gerard’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Your birthday is All Hallows’ Eve?” He gave him a reproachful look. “I must admit I’m rather envious.”

Frank laughed again. “Good. Glad to see I’ve still some merits.” He was making quick work of the pudding, looking at the dessert as though it were a lover.

“Look at a girl like that, and she’ll fall for you, no doubt,” Gerard deadpanned. He’d never been particularly eager to keep up the charade of heterosexuality, but what had to be done, had to be done, he supposed.

“Now whoever said that had ever been a concern of mine?” 

Gerard’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest, he was certain the entire mansion could hear it. Surely he didn’t mean-

Frank stood up with a laugh, brushing the crumbs off his trousers and sending the chair screeching back on the polished wooden floor. The tray was already empty.

He flashed Gerard a wicked grin. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Gerard of Aquilla.” He grabbed his hand and brushed a feather-light kiss across his knuckles. Gerard couldn’t breathe.

“My king.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard sat dumbfounded long after Frank left, heart pulsing as if to the beat of the sun’s dying dance as rays of gold and red bathed the room in a rosy glow.  _ My king.  _ Frank had called him his king. Was that a joking formality, or did he know something more?

He had made sure, in all his correspondences with Michael, to never mention his ties to the throne. Nor had any of the servants been let in on the secret. His parents were socialites and therefore excellent liars; it was simply not possible that a young man, a dead one at that, from the countryside should know of his true identity.

Rising, he crossed the carpeted floor to the window, where he watched the last embers of light slowly mingle to form a rich tapestry of colours. He would need to find out more about Frank, then, see if he could be trusted. Besides, even if Frank were in on one of the crown’s most closely guarded secrets, who would believe the idle gossip of a ghost? Despite having been granted a small title by his parents for display in place of his real one, he had always remained relatively incognito in the ranks of nobility. He was safe.

Thus reassured, he set about rearranging the cushions atop the cushy window seat. Where Frank had sat, his mind unhelpfully reminded him. And why did that matter, again? 

The ghost was interesting, he had to admit. He let out a quiet laugh. Who would have thought that he would take the appearance of the supernatural this well? (Much better than he’d taken the news of his requiring to choose a bride, at any rate.)

The canopy bed on the left side of the room was an embellished wooden affair, adorned with soft silky sheets and plump white pillows. As he kicked off his shoes and lay down in the undignified manner he would have been admonished for at home, he decided he was going to rather enjoy living here.

_ ♡ _

He awoke with the moonlight upon his face, casting a silver spell across his bedsheets. When had his bed had velvet curtains? Blinking blearily, he rubbed his eyes before it all came back to him, slotting back into his mind piece by piece like the ticking of a clock- click, click, click.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

He shrieked. His heartbeat only slowed when he realised it was a smirking Frank that was sitting on the window. To his mortification, he discovered that he had bolted upright and had drawn the covers up to his chin like a child.

“F-Frank? What in the world are you doing here?”

The ghost raised an eyebrow. He looked- well,  _ ghostly _ against the white-painted window frame, silhouetted against a backdrop of stars. “Visiting you, of course.”

“In the dead of night? Why, where are your manners?” Gerard teased, mostly to cover up his own embarrassment. He was vaguely aware that he was still in his day-clothes, his suit no doubt thoroughly rumpled, and dear God, he couldn’t even begin to imagine the horror that was his sleep-tousled hair. Frank seemed to take no offense at his unsightly appearance, though, and for that he heaved an internal sigh of relief.

Frank laughed and hopped down from the windowsill. “Quite the assumption to make that I had any to begin with, dear Gerard.”

Gerard hummed. “Would it be rude to agree with that?”

“Oh, definitely.” Frank gestured to Gerard’s bed. “Would it be rude if I sat down?”

“Oh, certainly,” Gerard said, mimicking him with a grin. He moved over and made a show of inviting him over. “Be my guest.”

He tried to convince himself that it would be just like when he and Michael huddled under the blankets as children.  _ I don’t make a habit of inviting ghosts into my bed,  _ he was almost tempted to say.

Frank beamed as he slid under the sheets next to Gerard with an impish look of delight. He nestled into the pillows with a groan. “Stars, your bed is akin to a cloud.”

Gerard laughed. “It really is, isn’t it?” He paused, idly taking in the ridiculousness of his situation. Here he was, heir to the throne, hidden away amongst the shrubs of the countryside and entertaining a ghost in his quarters at midnight. Young and doomed, he was.

Frank was watching him with a questioning look on his face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You’re going to have to aim higher than that,” Gerard said airily. “You do realise I am a nobleman.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Just tell me what’s on your mind, Jesus Christ.”

Gerard looked down at his hands, where he’d been unconsciously toying with the bedsheets. “I was merely pondering the doomed nature of my unfortunate existence.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound so bitter, he really hadn’t.

Frank froze. “Oh, Gerard.” Hesitantly, he laid a soft hand atop his arm. “I- I don’t know what I can do to make this better, but I’m here for you, my ghostly complication be damned.” 

Gerard exhaled. “You don’t have to do anything. I just don’t know if anything will ever be all right.” He chuckled ruefully. “I do apologise, Frank, I really don’t intend to burden you with my problems-”

Frank shut him up with a swift punch to the shoulder. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“For being an idiot.” He took Gerard’s hands in his own, and Gerard flinched at the touch, afraid that his thundering heart would give him away. Frank displayed no sign of having noticed.

“You listen to me, Gerard the nobleman and Gerard the humble one and Gerard that lets random ghosts into his room because he’s much too kind and yet infuriatingly unable to see it. I must say I’m rusty in the affairs of nobility, but I promise you one thing-  _ you will be all fucking right _ . I’m no linguist, but I know the state of being ‘all right’ is a definition you write, not anyone else, so you had better remember that, Gerard Way. You are not your title. And because I know saying this one time won’t get it into your amazingly dense head, I’ll say it again. You are not your fucking title. You are so, so much more than that. I’ve known you but a day and yet I have never been more certain of anything.” He smiled at Gerard, not the impish grin but a warm one, a gentle one, one like the glow of an angel’s halo through the darkness intended for him and him alone.

“You are destined for greatness, and that is a fact. A simple and glaringly obvious fact. It is only your perception of greatness that is shackling you to the prison bars of the social hierarchy, Gerard.”

Gerard took in a deep breath. Frank’s voice was like honey, the words flowing over him in a sweet cascade. And yet he could feel the sheer strength of this ghost- no,  _ deity- _ as if his words had been armour instead.  _ My king.  _ It was then that Gerard knew that he had nothing, nothing at all to fear from Frank Iero.

“T-Thank you,” he stuttered, at a loss for the proper words. Frank squeezed his hands before gently releasing them. “Thank you. Really. You have no idea how much that means to me. I...I have never heard a more inspiring speech.” He turned to grin at Frank. “And I never pegged you for the poetic type. You are full of surprises, Frank Iero.”

He laughed and abruptly swung his legs over the bed. Gerard tried to ignore the slithering disappointment in the pit of his belly. 

The snake turned to mist and evaporated when Frank turned to smile at him. “Come on, up you get!” Gerard accepted his outstretched hand, slightly bewildered. “What are you doing?”

“Why, another surprise, of course. I think it’s high time we took a walk through the gardens, isn’t it, my lord?”

Gerard was vaguely aware of being pulled to his feet, of being bundled into a coat and ushered out of the house by an eager Frank. His eyes were fixed on the laughing ghost, utterly mesmerised by his each and every movement.

“You have a tattoo on your neck,” he breathed out just as they reached the gardens. The wind was doing wonderful things to Frank’s hair.

Frank looked at him with the hint of bashfulness in his smile. “Yes, it’s a scorpion. Not too crude for the likes of you, is it?”

Gerard gave him a playful shove. “Of course not, you foolish man. I love it.” He found his fingers gravitating towards Frank’s smooth skin, at the art inked upon him- then caught himself in horror with his fingertips a centimeter away from his neck. 

Frank had frozen. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” he blurted. He ripped his hand away as though Frank were burning. “I’m so, so sorry, that was so improper of me, oh God-”

Frank appeared to have come back to his senses. “Stop panicking, Gerard,” he laughed, and Gerard was relieved to find not the slightest trace of disgust in his voice. “Most people were fascinated by it. I’m quite flattered, really.”

Gerard might have under other circumstances been sad at the familiar way in which Frank employed the past tense, but one look at the happiness on the ghost’s face and any feeling of the sort melted away. 

He tore his eyes away from Frank and drank in his surroundings for the very first time. They were at the beginning of the lands that stretched on for miles from the mansion, just behind the house. The area they were standing in was elegant, bursting with beds of roses and peonies and buttercups all laid out on a dewy carpet of green. Below a sky glittering with stars, the garden looked almost ethereal.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Frank sounded just as awestruck as him.

Gerard murmured his agreement. “It’s so vastly different from the city,” he said, gazing up at the sky. Black and endless and beautiful like liquid obsidian, glimmering with the most exquisite diamonds of light.

Like a darker version of Frank’s eyes.

He tensed at the thought. God, what was wrong with him? 

The ghost sensed his discomfort and raised an enquiring eyebrow.  _ No. _

“So have you just lived in the house all these years?” he asked quickly.

Frank gave him a suspicious glance but let the matter drop. “Yes, actually. I occupied that very bedroom you now do.”

Gerard was glad for the dark that cloaked the- unreasonable, really- blush that appeared across his cheeks. “Oh,” he said, his voice a little higher than usual. “I- I hope I have not deprived you of anywhere to sleep?”

The ghost’s voice was light. “Don’t worry, this mansion is gigantic. I’ll manage.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “But never mind sleeping arrangements. I have something  _ much _ more exciting to show you.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Frank grabbed his wrist, already pulling him forward. Gerard laughed at his impatience. “What could possibly be this exciting?”

In response, he was pulled through a curtain of vines inconspicuously set into the hedge and into a small space housing a gorgeous fountain and golden red trees swaying in the autumn breeze. The cool, jade scent of flowers permeated the air in a refreshing perfume. “A secret garden!” He couldn’t have concealed his delight if he’d tried.

Frank beamed proudly as Gerard fingered the delicate petals of a white rose atop a bush. “I’ve been told I have quite the green thumb.”

“Arrogant prat.” Gerard paused. “It’s true, though.”

Frank mock-bowed. “Why, thank you, good sir. I’m just going to politely ignore that first part.”

Gerard laughed, breath catching in his throat as Frank grabbed his hand for the second time that day. “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, but this isn’t even the main attraction.”

With a spring in his step, Gerard followed Frank. The fresh air and Frank’s company was doing him a world of good, it appeared.

He nearly collided with the other man as he stopped abruptly in front of the hedge. From this angle he could see Frank’s scorpion tattoo much, much better. It was missing a pincer on the left side, he noted. Somehow that was rather… endearing.

“Another of your leaf curtain tricks?” Gerard quipped.

Frank smiled. “No. Better.” He brushed aside a tangle of foliage to reveal a wooden door set into the hedge, painted a fitting moss green. There was a creative little knob on its surface, an elegant, curving emerald-gold handle in the shape of a merperson arching their back, sweeping tail carved with delicate precision. Their hair was tumbling down their shoulders, wind ravaged and framing their face, which was accented by pointed cheekbones and eyes blown wide open.

“I made it,” Frank said shyly. “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god,” Gerard said dumbly. “Oh my god.”

It was pure beauty, crafted from sheer skill and reinforced by the love with which it had been created. A doorknob! A doorknob was amongst one of the greatest pieces of art he had ever seen. It wasn’t merely the exquisiteness of the merperson. It was the way Gerard could see the way Frank had breathed life into it. 

It was like seeing a piece of his soul.

Already he was itching for his canvases and watercolours. He had to paint this, had to put this onto paper in bursting colours. “I love it,” he breathed, voice hushed with awe. 

Frank blushed and slotted a key into the lock. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t know you were an artist,” he commented as Frank turned the lock, revealing a dark cavern within.

“I have time, that’s all,” was the soft reply as Frank slid into the darkness like a fish into water, completely at ease. A heartbeat later, Gerard heard the faint scratch of a match and the sizzle as a lantern was lit. Frank turned and smiled. “Come on in.”

The smell of damp, wet earth enveloped him as he stepped into the room, curious. His gaze landed on the rows and rows of wooden crates scattered across the room and he laughed. Of course.

“Lovely wine cellar you’ve got here.”

Frank had already dragged out a smaller crate and was lounging upon it like a reveling prince. There was a soft  _ pop  _ as he twisted the cork off a bottle. Gerard crossed the threshold in two long strides and sat beside him, feeling, to his surprise, heat radiating off the other’s body.

Frank raised the bottle with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Care for a drink?”

Gerard hesitated. Was it really proper to…?

His own thoughts were cut off by the echo of Frank’s words in his mind.  _ It is only your perception of greatness that is shackling you _ . Decisively, he shed the last remnants of his nobility like a cloak and turned to Frank, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hand me that bottle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! Your comments and kudos mean the world :)
> 
> Any predictions for what happens next?


End file.
